


Suburban Legends

by Hitomi_Zotz



Series: Suburban Legends [1]
Category: CSI: Miami, CSI: NY
Genre: Detectives, F/M, Horror, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Urban Legends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-18 13:38:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4707947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hitomi_Zotz/pseuds/Hitomi_Zotz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A serial killer from New York City has appeared in Miami near Halloween, killing their victims by copying urban legends. Detective Ridley Moon, who worked on the case in NYC, is sent down to help investigate. Horatio discovers she's hiding more than information to do with the case and may be linked to a past case of his in NYC. Can he help solve her case before the killer gets too close?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Suburban Legends- Chapter 1- Don't Look Back

Amelia Greene tensed in the soft, leather car seat and glanced at Jesse King shyly before turning her attention to the gloom outside. She knew where Jesse wanted to go, to a private but well known spot at the top of the hills overlooking one of Miami’s infamous beaches. It was a sad cliché, two high school students driving in the night like secret lovers heading to one of the better known make-out points. As it was nine o’clock Jesse reasoned that it was too early for a crowd, and it was a Tuesday night, not a popular night for driving up to the hills for the sole purpose of making out.

Amelia wasn’t keen on the trip but she feared discovery more than suffering a lengthy journey up to the windy sand hills. Jesse was Amanda Steel’s boyfriend after all and Amanda’s spies were everywhere, worse still was that Amanda was the head cheerleader of Sun Burrows High and therefore quite capable of making Amelia’s life hell if she found out about the betrayal. Amelia couldn’t resist Jesse though, he was cute, charming, athletic, intelligent and, most importantly, he was generous to his women.

She watched a few car lights flash past along the moderately busy road and then the 9:10 bus before the traffic started to thin as the car began to wind its way up the road to the hills at last and the scenery became dense trees, rocks, yellow grass, sand and dirt, all coated in shades of black and grey with hints of the half moonlight that peeped out from behind a cloud. The hills weren’t particularly high; in fact Amelia was fairly sure most of them had started as dunes save the hill they were venturing up now; it had to have something more solid than sand supporting it for there to be a road, right? Plus there were trees; trees needed dirt and stuff, right? Amelia wasn’t sure, biology and geology weren’t exactly her strong points. The slender brunette had only two interests at school- gymnastics and music.

They finally reached the top and Jesse turned off the engine with a small grunt of satisfaction. He turned to Amelia with a cocky, somewhat suggestive smile before clicking off his seatbelt and leaning in for a kiss as the belt slipped up his shoulder. Amelia responded in kind, pressing into his soft lips eagerly. She frowned a little when instead of the expected hand sliding up her skirt, he sat back suddenly.

“I need a piss,” he grumbled. Seeing the annoyance that flashed in her blue eyes he added hastily, “sorry, it was a long drive. I won’t be long.”

“Jesse it’s dark out there,” Amelia moaned as she glanced out his window with uncertainty.

“Lock the doors then,” Jesse retorted mockingly with a smirk. “I’ll knock three times when I return so you know it’s not a nut from the bushes.”

“Jesse don’t joke,” Amelia retorted sternly as she glowered over at him.

Jesse just laughed, waved his hands and made a ‘woo’ noise before he hit off the car lights so the car didn’t beep when he opened the door and slipped out into the night.  
The air was muggy, uncomfortable for the young male to breathe in especially with the salt and sand hanging in it. They were long due a storm to relieve the heaviness of the climate and Jesse found himself wishing that the breeze would drop as it was warm and only served to sprinkle sand in his eyes. He glanced about for a good spot to urinate, reasoning that it didn’t matter much since there was no one around before he staggered over to a small group of palm trees.

Amelia waited impatiently in the now locked car and contemplated hitting the radio on before she realised Jesse had taken the car keys in his pocket. She sighed, flopped back in her seat and tugged out her phone, going online to check out the gossip. She scanned through several people’s pages, commenting on her friend Abby’s post about her new dress, before a knock came. She jumped in surprise before looking out to the gloom but it was impossible to see anything outside the car. 

KNOCK. KNOCK. Two bangs on the metal door. She reached tentatively to the button beside Jesse’s seat that opened the doors. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. The bangs came frantically, violent and fast. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Amelia froze in horror and was about to yell when everything fell silent. Suddenly she realised that there was something odd about the banging, and her eyes rolled upwards as she realised what it was. Something had been banging on the roof! Terrified she looked to the backseat, there was an old, navy blanket there Jesse kept to spread out on the sand when he was at the beach with Amanda.

Amelia considered that Jesse might just be trying to scare her but when the banging started again she decided that she was better safe than sorry and moved in a low, quick movement to the backseat, taking care to keep below the window line. 

BANG! BANG! BANG! It was there again, frantic knocking on the roof. She pulled the blanket over herself as she hid in the backseat, tugged out her phone and dialled the police.  
“911, what’s your emergency?” a female’s practised, calm speech called out.

“Hello,” Amelia croaked in a hushed voice, “look I’m on the hills near Burrows Beach, just off East Point Road, I’m in my boyfriend’s car and I think someone’s out there.”

“Okay, stay calm, what’s your name and what do you mean you think someone’s out there?”

“Amelia Greene, look my boyfriend went to pee and now there’s something banging on the roof of the car and I don’t think it’s him! Please send someone!”

BANG! BANG! BANG!

“Okay, just stay on the line.”

BANG! BANG! BANG! The metallic thuds pounded through Amelia’s head causing her to whimper and whisper pleas with each one. When the banging stopped she wanted to feel relief but she didn’t have the chance as suddenly there was a much more bone chilling sound. The car doors clicked open.  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dawn always seemed to look beautiful in Miami, the sky was pink and gold, the sun was bright on the horizon but not yet high enough to scald and the clouds were soft and tinged in rose and lilac. Today was no different, the sky still looked warm and calm promising another clammy mid-autumn day, but down below was a different scenario.  
A blue Ford Mustang, fifth generation, was part of a grisly murder scene, completely intact save for a few scratches and minor dents it was also partially supporting a very much dead young male on its roof. The boy, one Jesse King, identified by his bank card, was hanging by a noose from a sand pine’s branch, his feet resting near the right side of the car’s roof.

Timothy ‘Speed’ Speedle looked at the scene with slight intrigue as he snapped photographs. “This seems familiar,” he murmured, prompting a curious glance from his superior.

“Two victims,” Lieutenant Horatio Caine summed up.

“Two?” Tim interrupted.

“Back here,” Dr. Alexx Woods, the medical examiner, commented as she leaned back from the open, back, left door, “poor honey fought with all she had but it did her no good in the end.”

“Who is she?” Tim quipped as he moved round for a better look. There was a girl hanging half out of the door, face up, eyes frozen in horror, throat open and exposed, and several deep slash marks showing on her chest and torso.

“Amelia Greene,” Horatio retorted calmly, “she made the call at 21:42; she told the operator she was in her boyfriend’s car and that she thought someone was ‘out there’, she then explained that her boyfriend had exited to urinate and she could hear a repetitive banging on the car roof but she didn’t think it was him.”

“I guess she was wrong,” Calleigh Duquesne, the day shift Assistant Supervisor, commented calmly in her soft, Southern tone as she stood with her hands on her hips assessing the scene.

“Dead wrong,” Horatio remarked dryly as he stepped closer to the deceased Jesse King and glanced up at him calmly through tinted sunglasses.

“Wait, she said she heard banging on the roof and it was him?” Tim exclaimed in surprise as he stood up to stare over at Calleigh and Horatio.

“That’s the idea,” Horatiro retorted calmly, “but we’ll have to find out if it really was what she heard.”

“Light breeze last night,” Calleigh murmured, “not really strong enough to swing a corpse.”

“No, I mean, H,” Tim protested, “Calleigh, doesn’t this remind you guys of anything?”

“Not really Speed,” Calleigh retorted with a mild look of confusion in her bright blue eyes.

“Urban legends,” Speed explained dryly with a glimmer of dark amusement in his brown eyes, “come on; this one was old when I was at school. A guy and a girl are out in a car, then the car breaks down or they stop somewhere. The guy gets out to go look for help, warns the girl to lock the doors and says he’ll knock so many times when he returns. She hears a noise on the roof all night and hides, then the next morning the police come and lead her out of the car telling her not to look back but she does and there’s her boyfriend, hanging above the car and the sound was either his shoes or ring hitting the roof.”

Horatio gave a slight frown as he contemplated the idea. “The difference in this scenario is that the police didn’t arrive in time and Miss Greene didn’t get to walk away.”

“She did try to hide though,” Alexx commented sympathetically, “under a blanket in the back seat, it just wasn’t good enough to keep you safe poor thing.”

“No sign of forced entry,” Calleigh murmured.

“The 911 operator said the last thing Miss Greene screamed was ‘they’ve got the keys’, then the line went dead,” Horatio explained, still calm.

“You unfortunate girl, you must have been so scared,” Alexx soothed to the corpse, “and you too,” she murmured as she looked up to Jesse King, “both so young.”

“They took their time to hang Mr King but not the girl,” Calleigh observed, “did they not realise she was there and got spooked? Saw her on the phone maybe?”

“There were several bangs on the car, Miss Greene called 911 because she heard something outside on the roof and didn’t think it was her boyfriend,” Horatio stated as he walked round the scene. “So either the killer hung around after hanging Mr. King and his body made the noise, or they made the noise, the question is why? And how long did it take Mr. King to die? Judging from the bruising on the back of his skull it’s probable he didn’t die on a noose.”

“Well get him down and we can learn more,” Alexx suggested. “Judging from the blood and the depth of the wound, it was the slash on the throat that killed this sweet girl, she was stabbed in the chest and stomach first, but she fought back, look at her hands, there’s swelling on her knuckles and bruising on her knees, she fought for her life.”

“But she didn’t win,” Horatio replied as he stared down at the scared looking girl. “Well we will need to inform the next of kin, and start working out why these two were up here, from when and who might have known about it and, most importantly, who and what killed them.”

Tim moved around taking photos, to him this job was just a pay check; he did not share his team’s enthusiasm for the work but, though he would never admit it, there was something interesting about a case that mirrored an urban legend, especially with Halloween just a few weeks around the corner. He paused and looked to Horatio curiously, wondering if he should voice his thoughts. “Halloween’s coming up,” he decided to risk it, “and this is like an urban legend, could there be a link?”

“Some sick killing for a holiday?” Alexx quipped in a disapproving manner. 

“It’s possible Speed,” Horatio allowed, “but let’s stick to what we know for now rather than speculate.”

Tim nodded and the group continued with their work. 

“This could be a hint,” Alexx murmured, as she tugged out a playing card from between Amelia’s thighs. It was the Ace of Spades.

“That can be a symbol of death to some people,” Horatio commented quietly.

“A literal calling card?” Calleigh marvelled in disbelief. “It’s a bit cliché.”

“Still a clue,” Horatio murmured.  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By midday Tim had moved on to a different case with Eric, the teenagers’ parents had shown up to the Miami-Dade Police Department to see their children, and an interesting call had trickled all the way down from New York City. If it hadn’t come from a reliable source Horatio might have questioned it but after listening through it and realising he had little choice over the matter, he had given his consent for a detective to come down from the upstate city, though he had made his disapproval clear on the manner.

It was absurd and around this time of year for this type of case he knew the Miami-Dade team would only make jokes, how could they not? Detective Ridley Moon, he had been informed, was a detective who had been, as Detective Mac Taylor had described politely, ‘shafted’ with cases with occult, supernatural and somewhat bizarre appearances. It was not something she had held any interest in but rather people had found it amusing to pass the cases to her because she hailed from Sleepy Hollow of all places and her surname was ‘Moon’, it had just seemed too easy to mock her. 

It had all been humorous until a rather strange serial killer had appeared in New York City; it had seemingly started when a teenage girl babysitting had phoned the police to complain about being terrorised by creepy phone calls. In the tradition of the urban legend the girl and her three young charges had all been found slaughtered, and the calls were traced to the house’s phone. The killer had only left one clue, the Ace of Spades playing card.

Mac had explained that Detective Moon and her partner Detective Silver were assigned to the case. Relatives, friends and past convicts in the area were all suspected and interrogated but no one was ever convicted for the brutal killings though there was a conclusion that it had been the father. The three children had all had an insurance claim taken out of them just weeks prior to the killings but without any hard evidence it had all been circumstantial and the case against him had fallen apart.

Within two weeks of the babysitter murders another killing had occurred. This time it had involved a girl named Mary being found with a mirror smashed over her head, there had been three scratches on her right arm as well, and the same trademark playing card at the scene. Things had continued in this fashion for a couple of months, every two weeks there would be a death, sometimes the connection to an urban legend was vague or the legend was a local one not widely known across the country but the Ace of Spades had always been present. In the end, Detectives Moon and Silver had gotten close to unmasking the killer, or so they had believed, only for Detective Silver to pay with his life and the evidence to turn cold. Detective Silver had died in a bloody fashion, hacked to death, he had been found in his car but evidence had suggested he had died elsewhere and suffered greatly first. After that the strange killings in the city had stopped.

Mac had concluded his grim tale by informing Horatio that the information that the Ace of Spades was at the scene of every death had never been leaked to the public to prevent copycat killings and also because it was the only tangible evidence they had to link the cases as different weapons and methods of killing were involved in each case.

Mac had added that, despite failing to solve the case, Detective Moon remained the expert on the matter, he had then relayed the information that a higher power had suggested she was sent to Miami to investigate this latest event. It was in part to stop a repeat of the murders that had occurred in New York but also an attempt to move her on to a change of scene in the hopes of helping her. The case had become her obsession after her partner’s murder and she had become withdrawn, cold even, and it was evident she did nothing but work on the case. It had made Horatio think she was better off the case but he had kept his opinion to himself.

The redhead had decided in the end that they could let her come down, if she was hostile and/or too obsessive she could be shunted to the sidelines or he could suggest her moving on, or perhaps taking leave. He might effectively be having her forced on him but he would still be in charge. Besides, if she did have experience with this it could be useful and he wasn’t foolish enough to turn away help but he privately thought it was a bit of a stretch to imagine a serial killer coming from New York to Miami to reoffend. Yet, it was not beyond the realms of possibilities, serial killers always did reoffend, they couldn’t resist it, and the cops had gotten close in New York, so the killer had to leave but for Miami? And could they really be good enough to evade the police for so long?


	2. Suburban Legends- Chapter 2- Victims

Detective Ridley Moon cursed as the lid on her coffee cup slid off with her sudden braking causing cold coffee to splash all around the front of her banged up Mustang. She clenched the steering wheel tight, closed her eyes, let out another curse and then turned the engine off, oblivious to the looks she was getting for her somewhat violent and abrupt parking. All she cared about was that she was in a space, the fact that her car was slightly diagonal and the space was marked for one Lt Caine meant little to her. Screw him and screw his space, if he couldn’t be here on time he didn’t deserve his damn space. She glanced at the clock in the centre of her dash, 09:10, hell he was ten minutes late, double screw him then.

The detective pushed back her dark fringe from her face in an attempt to compose herself and stepped out of the car.

“That’s got to be our New Yorker,” Calleigh commented brightly from across the car park. She stood staring at the new arrival from behind her large, brown framed shades with a small smile on her fair face.

“How can you tell?” Speedle queried sardonically in disinterest as he studied the Nikon camera in his hands.

“Asides from the casual disregard for parking, and the angry driving her clothes kinda give it away,” Calleigh informed him as her smile widened. The detective definitely did not look like a local lacking the expected golden glow of the Miami sun on her skin, the necessary sunglasses and the slightly more relaxed look of someone who had beaches, swamps and palm trees as part of their daily life. The woman bore a scowl on her face and looked slightly frazzled as she stormed in the direction of the Miami-Dade headquarters. 

Speedle glanced up briefly, giving into a mild curiosity brought about by Calleigh’s words. She was around 5’6, fair skinned with long, dark brown hair that hung in neat, glossy waves over her shoulders. She wore a long sleeved, pale blue skirt tucked neatly into a navy skirt with the sleeves rolled up at the elbows. Her skirt was tight at the waist and flared out above her knees revealing skinny, long legs that ended in pointed, brown shoes with low heels. It was all little too stylish and preppy for Miami.

“Not quite designer,” Calleigh purred as she continued to observe, “but still the style of the city. Although, not what you’d expect a detective to be wearing.”

Speedle had to agree with that, if he had been interested enough to give it some thought he would have expected a suit, stylish, neat, longer skirt, maybe a waistcoat, and a little more expensive and less suited to the weather than Calleigh’s.

Ridley continued on, oblivious to the onlookers, and entered the large, busy building. She presented herself to the receptionist with a calm stare and introduced herself politely. “Morning, I’m Detective Moon, I’ve been sent down from New York to follow up a case.” She took a quick note of the stack of papers on the receptionist’s desk, the fern tree dying in the corner, the unpleasant looking, plastic, black seats for visitors and the crisp, clean look of the desks, tiles and walls suggesting either a new building or a recent makeover.  
The middle aged brunette blinked up at her curiously, taking in the hard edge in the detective’s grey-brown eyes before she keyed the information into the screen in front of her. She knew who the woman was, rumours had spread like wildfire of a woman from Sleepy Hollow coming to chase up urban legends, this close to Halloween it was hard not to gossip and joke about it. After entering a few details she unlocked the drawer to her right and produced a plastic pass left there attached to a blue ribbon. “Here you go,” she said cheerfully as she held it up to the woman, “head up to the second floor, I’ve activated your clearance as far as there. Third door on the right.”

“Thanks.” Ridley accepted the pass, wrapping the ribbon about her left wrist once before clutching the card in her hand and heading on her way, blatantly ignoring the curious looks she earned as everyone wondered if she was the detective from Sleepy Hollow. The heat was making her skin itch as it debated over sweating or simply burning. Miami, it had sounded nice on paper- sun, beaches, palm trees and better weather than New York, but now that she was here she was less sure. ‘Why here?’ she wondered dubiously as she headed for the stairs.

She made it upstairs to a pleasant, large office with a wall that was all tinted windows allowing her to appreciate the golden glow of the Miami morning sun without being blinded by it. She paced over the off-white tiles impatiently, glancing around the room for clues. Of course it was impeccable, no evidence lying around and no hints of the member of staff who regularly used the office save for a brown stained coffee cup, a frequently used computer that needed a dust, and a few abandoned pens.

Ten minutes later and Ridley’s loneliness was finally abated by the man whose parking space she had stolen- Lieutenant Horatio Caine. He stepped into the room with ease, took off his Ray-Bans and pocketed them in his front jacket pocket, one stem down in the pocket securing them temporarily. He looked at her curiously with his piercing blue eyes, trying to get the measure of her, no suggestion in his demeanour that he knew or cared that she had taken his parking space.

She was younger than he had anticipated; early thirties at the very most, her preppy clothes only added to her youthful appearance but did not match up with her severe expression. The gold coin necklace at her throat was equally ill-suited as it suggested a woman interested in appearance and trinkets, a woman who could show off her personality some of the time not a straight laced detective interested in business only. Horatio wondered if maybe it was as simple as she was not what he had been expecting.

“Detective Moon, I’m Lieutenant Caine,” he greeted calmly. “I see you found us okay.”

She nodded as she took him in swiftly with a brief, scrutinising glance. “I did, I’d say nice to be here but that’s not true, these are hardly ideal circumstances,” she commented coolly.

“No but crime rarely is. I was informed it’s possible a recent murderer of ours might be one of yours, one you have...a certain familiarity with?” He looked at her questionably, spying the unease in her eyes before she hid it.

“Tell me, was there an Ace of Spades at the scene?” she queried, already knowing the answer. She wouldn’t be here so soon if there hadn’t been some telltale signs that it wasn’t just another serial killer jumping on the idea of urban legend killings.

Horatio nodded, his expression calm as he masked his emotions.

“And were the victims’ photographic ids missing?” she pried.

Horatio nodded again, slower this time as he continued to hold her gaze. “As far as we are aware anyway, Mr. King’s parents confirmed he always kept his licence in his wallet but Miss Greene’s parents are not entirely sure if she would have had id on her or not.”

“Then there’s no maybe,” she admitted wearily as she held back a sigh and folded her arms, “it’s the same person. They left the Ace of Spades at every scene and took photographic id when possible, or photographs in some cases, some sick trophy I assume. It was information we were very careful to make sure wasn’t leaked to the public, that way we could tell the copycats apart from the original.”

“And this person also killed a cop, your partner, correct?” Horatio went straight to the point with ease like it was no big deal. He was eager to see her reaction, an honest reaction, which he would hopefully get whilst she was jet lagged and still caught up in being new to town.

Ridley flinched at the question before nodding and turning to stare out at the sea shimmering in the distance. “Detective Silver,” she murmured quietly as she subdued her emotions, “he was murdered three months ago and then it all just stopped.” Detective Justin Silver, the image of his mutilated corpse haunted her still.

“And why do you think it’s started again? And why here?” Horatio demanded. He knew she was probably eager to see the evidence but he wasn’t going to be helpful until he had gotten all the information he could from her. It might have once been her case but now it was his, she was just along for the ride because he had had little choice in the matter.

She shrugged as she turned back to face him at last, her calm, cool professional mask back in place. “I don’t know, I assume they fled because we got too close or they thought that after killing a cop we would get too close. Why Miami though I couldn’t say, maybe they have family down here or a hideaway, right now your guess is as good as mine. As for why it’s started again, maybe we just weren’t aware of anymore killings until now, although I doubt it, believe me, I’ve kept an eye out. More likely, they’ve got an urge they can’t deny any longer.”

Horatio frowned; she wasn’t giving him anything he hadn’t already gathered from the case files that had been faxed down. “I thought you were the expert on this.”

Ridley gave him an angry look before she once again forced herself to calm down. “They killed my partner, believe me if I had any extra information that could bring them down I would have put it to good use already. Truth is I don’t even know if there’s one or two of them, male or female, it’s different weapons in each case and different victims; nothing is consistent except that they follow urban legends. Alright, so far no victims over the age of fifty, none under three, and no signs of gun usage, but that’s about it. For such violent kills you would think they would have slipped up by now but they haven’t, they’re methodical, they don’t strike on a whim, and they know who their victims are long before they kill them. It seems sudden and sloppy but it’s not, they plan all this very carefully.”

Horatio nodded, knowing that if he pushed further she would only get frustrated and there was no point in beginning on the wrong foot with her. “Alright, well let’s go take a look at the evidence we have.”  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It took three hours to go through all the evidence and the case to date. These three hours also involved introductions for Ridley to the medical examiner Alexx Woods, the fingerprint, drugs, tyres and underwater expert Eric Delko, ballistics specialist Calleigh Duquesne, and a still unimpressed traces and impression expert Timothy ‘Speed’ Speedle. Only Calleigh actually seemed sincerely welcoming, Eric and Alexx were polite whilst Tim couldn’t even feign that much.

Ridley didn’t show much interest in the corpses, accepting that it was a single blow to the head that had killed the male and a knife that had killed the girl. The consensus by the Miami CSIs was more than one killer as it seemed highly unlikely that the teenagers were killed with different weapons by one killer, all at the same scene on the same night and yet for all the hours of searching there was still no evidence to indicate even one killer never mind two. Ridley had shrugged at the theory, admitting that they had never been entirely surely if it was just one or several people involved in the murders.

After the gruelling three hour session they headed back to Horatio’s office, as a group, to discuss the outcome, this time with much needed coffee in hand.

“So, are you really from Sleepy Hollow?” Eric blurted out. He had held his curiosity in at the laboratory but for the three hours he had wondered about it, giving Ridley what he had mistakenly thought were subtle looks of inquisitiveness as he burned to ask her about the rumours.

“Way to deviate from the topic at hand Eric,” Calleigh chided teasingly.

Ridley looked to the cute Cuban, relieved to have him finally ask what he had evidently being wondering about her for the past three hours, and nodded. “Yes, I left when I was eighteen and no, I never saw a headless horseman there.”

Eric looked disappointed as he queried, “would that count as an urban legend? I mean it’s based on a book, right?”

“Based on a book based on a legend,” Ridley explained, trying not to sound tired as she did, “headless horsemen cropped up long before Washington Irving and not just in Sleepy Hollow.” She was exhausted but determined not to show it before the alert CSIs.

“Anyway,” Horatio interrupted, “we need to continue with this investigation, Eric, Calleigh, go take another look at our crime scene. Speed, you and Yelina have a potential homicide to investigate at the Miami Palms Hotel. As for you Detective Moon, perhaps you would do me the honour of accompanying me to look into who exactly our victims were.”

Ridley nodded as she hastily banished the thought of bed whilst Speed looked a tad irritated at being ordered onto another case.

“Alright,” Calleigh retorted confidently, “our killer’s good but he must have left something behind other than a calling card.”

As they started to move out of the room Ridley quipped, “whose car?”

“Mine,” Horatio retorted calmly, “even though you’re in my space Detective Moon you’re still just along for the ride.”

Her lip twisted slightly as she resisted the urge to grin, refusing to allow him to think she was amused by his words, instead she replied mockingly, “well I hope your driving is better than your time keeping.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
At 13:25 Lieutenant Caine and Detective Moon arrived at 143 Silver Oaks Street, the modest two storey white washed building Jesse King had called home. The car journey had taken just under an hour thanks to the lunch time rush and had been spent in what was a relaxed silence for Horatio but an uncomfortable one for Ridley who had stared out the window at the Miami landscape and wondered where the hell autumn was in this city. As if the heat wasn’t bad enough she had gotten used to gloomy grey skies and rain, the sunshine was jarring to her system and truthfully, she actually liked the grim grey of New York autumn, she did not welcome the change.

They stepped out of the car and were greeted at the porch by his pallid, teary eyed mother who granted them entry reluctantly only after being assured by Horatio’s quiet but firm words that seeing their home could help find Jesse’s killer.

Mrs King led them up a green carpeted hall to a door on the left, which she paused outside with a choked back sob. “I’m sorry,” she stammered out with a shake of her head, “but I can’t go in there yet, not until my boy’s home one last time.” She turned from them without waiting for a reply and hastened up the hall.

Ridley glanced up at Horatio serenely, even in heels she was still a good three inches shorter than him.

“Ladies first,” he said politely with a gesture to the door.

Ridley, who was wearing a pair of plush red gloves that were highly inappropriate for the weather but at least stopped her from leaving prints, pushed down the handle and opened the door.

“You know we’re not treating this as a crime scene,” Horatio reminded her.

“I know,” Ridley retorted softly as she stepped into the room, “but it seems wrong leaving prints in a dead stranger’s room, I know he doesn’t care but I do. Besides, it might become a crime scene soon.” She glanced about the room curiously, pausing before a couple of photos stuck onto the off-white, right wall sloppily with blue-tac. “Who’s the blonde?” she queried aloud as she gestured to three photos that showed Jesse with his arm wrapped around a blonde girl wearing a cheerleader’s costume. She glanced over the photos, and gestured to another one showing Jesse, the blonde, another male and two other girls, one of which was Amelia Greene, who was between the blonde and another girl. “Mr King and Miss Greene barely look like they know each other,” Ridley murmured.

“No, it looks like he was on better terms with the cheerleader,” Horatio commented sardonically as he gave the room a cool stare. “Definitely better terms,” he mused as he glanced down at abandoned set of red pompoms half-hidden beneath a pile of dirty laundry.

“They were on a low hill, alone and aloof from the world, a secret rendezvous,” Ridley murmured, “but someone knew they were going to be up there.” She glanced up at Horatio again. “I told you these killings are planned, they’re not random, the killer knew Mr King and Miss Greene would be up there on that night, which means they were being watched long before.”

Horatio nodded in agreement, it was guesswork still but if the cheerleader was Jesse’s girlfriend then he had been seeing Miss Greene in secret, which would explain the remote area where they had been murdered, an odd area for a killer to lurk in the hopes of someone randomly appearing on that particular night, the killer had to know they would be there. 

“You know Miss Moon I think you might be right,” the redhead said brightly, “this could be as much a crime scene as the hill. Someone was planning this pair’s death, someone was watching them and knew they were going to be together, and when, and where.”

Ridley gave a blunt nod as she frowned round the room. “It’s the same as all the other deaths,” she said. She spoke matter-of-factly and Horatio wondered if it was because she was so used to the violence of the cases she had grown numb to them or if she was making an effort to appear professionally indifferent. 

“We found a trace amount of evidence once,” she continued coolly, “a girl called Mary; she had had her eyes poked out and her tongue cut out with the shards of a mirror. We traced the mirror to an antique shop but the person who bought it was a red herring, a homeless man called Bryce. Bryce said he found a letter in his den with a small amount of money, it told him to buy the mirror and where to leave it in exchange for money, curious, he did it and true enough more money appeared. The letter was typed, we tried to trace it and the bills but got nothing, and we searched round where the mirror was left but nothing again. As for Mary, she turned up in the bathroom of an abandoned textile factory, she had been missing for three days before she was found thanks to an anonymous tip, I can’t imagine she would have ever been discovered if not for the tip.”

“They wanted an audience,” Horatio guessed.

“Yep,” Ridley retorted, still sounded indifferent, bored even, “that’s how I know they’ve been quiet until now, if the bodies aren’t found an anonymous tip leads us to them, every time. Mary was the second kill, we made the link thanks to the Ace of Spades card, you know I think it’s one of the few things that swayed the jury into believing Mr. Gail hadn’t killed his three kids and their babysitter. Case number one, it’s an old urban legend, a girl is babysitting, then she’s harassed by phone calls and they’re traced to inside the house and the kids end up dead. You know I think it’s because we were ready to convict Mr. Gail that Mary was killed so soon after, the real killer couldn’t stand the idea of someone else getting all the credit.”

“And there was no evidence at any of these scenes, none at all?” Horatio pressed in disbelief.

“Nothing that led anywhere, sometimes I think some of the evidence was deliberately left to lead us on a goose chase, Justin thought the same.” She looked sad then with a degree of guilt in her grey-brown eyes. “He was victim number ten.”

“Ah yes, and which urban legend was his death following?” Horatio pried. He had read up on the case file on that and there was a lot that hadn’t added up, found in his car but the evidence suggested that he had died elsewhere but where? And why had he been put in his car? 

“It looked like killer in the backseat,” Ridley answered flatly. “Well, you’re in charge here, do we attempt a thorough search now for evidence or let someone else do it and move on to Miss Greene’s home?”

“We’ll find out what we can for now.”

They talked with Mrs King and learned that there were security cameras at the front and back of the home due to vandals, Horatio requested a copy of these before he and Detective Moon carried out a brief search around the property. There were footprints and tyre tracks but nothing to suggest an intruder. Stubbed out cigarettes at the back of the house belonged to Jesse, they had identified quickly in his room that he was a smoker, and a trampled flowerbed was explained away by Mrs King as an accident on her part. If there was any evidence it had likely been tampered with unwittingly by the home’s residents and Ridley was very confident that the security cameras wouldn’t offer any.  
After twenty minutes on the property they finally headed on to Miss Greene’s home. By now Ridley was sticky with the heat, her cheeks were red, her skin was soaked in a thin, unpleasant layer of sweat and she was curious as to how the many scantily clad women they drove by seemed immune to the weather, lacking frizzy hair and sweat stains.  
Miss Greene had lived half an hour’s drive away from Mr King, in a modern but modest home built close to its neighbouring buildings and lacking a front garden. They pulled up on the smooth, grey drive and Ridley was quick to note the first odd thing of the day- a multi-coloured lantern hanging out from the porch had one of its panes broken.

“Could be nothing,” she admitted aloud even as she looked up at it with intrigue, it was a quirky oddity against the modern backdrop.

“Or it could be something very important,” Horatio mused though he too doubted it. Why would a killer who had been so careful and clever for years make such a rookie mistake? Unless it was deliberate, it was infuriating that the redheaded lieutenant didn’t know enough about his mark to venture a guess. All he knew was that Detective Moon was definitely withholding something about this disturbing business and that he found it extremely hard to believe that the entire New York Police Department had failed to turn up any concrete evidence against this creep.

After ringing the doorbell twice they were greeted by a sunken eyed, grim faced man somewhere in his late forties. 

“Good afternoon, I’m Lieutenant Caine and this is my colleague Detective Moon,” Horatio introduced politely with a small, brief smile.

The man glanced at the gold badge gleaming off Horatio’s belt before looking to Detective Moon with suspicion. She frowned back before yanking out a silver badge and flashing it briefly before pocketing it again, hoping he hadn’t glimpsed N.Y.P.D on it.

“You here about Amelia?” he queried as anger burned in his brown eyes. “When are we getting her home huh?”

“Tomorrow,” Horatio answered calmly.

“Then why are you here?” the man demanded. “She didn’t get cut up here.” His breath reeked of whiskey, a smell Ridley knew all too well, and she noted the flush at his cheeks and the blurriness of his bloodshot eyes, the man had been drinking for at least a couple of hours.

“No,” she retorted smoothly, “but we’re hoping we can find something that will help us find who did it.”

“Something here?” he snapped back angrily.

Ridley nodded whilst Horatio interjected, “sir if we could look around we could get a better understanding of Amelia.”

The man’s scowl deepened but he opened the door wider anyway. “Fine.”

“One question Mr Greene,” Ridley began.

“Blair.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s Mr. Blair,” he explained moodily, “I’m her stepfather, well I was.”

“Right, what happened to the lantern Mr. Blair?” Ridley queried as she gestured up to it with one hand.

“What does that matter?” he snapped as he scowled at it. “Stupid, ugly thing, don’t know when or how it got broke, don’t much care either. Come in if you’re coming in but leave me in peace.” He turned away from them and stormed up the hall.

Ridley stepped in first murmuring cynically, “sadly the best offer I’ve had all day.”

They surveyed the house with ease- it was a mess, toys discarded everywhere, abandoned magazines and newspapers. Empty crisp packets littered the kitchen along with numerous beer tins, and wine, vodka and whiskey bottles. Amelia’s room was the cleanest in the house but just as untidy as everywhere else, dirty clothes on the floor hiding half-open books, forgotten pens and open handbags. Everything looked used and old, the clothes were evidently second-hand, and some had loose threads and patchworks. Ridley turned up the best find, Amelia’s diary, hidden under pillow.

She opened it without hesitation and flipped through the pages briskly, frowning and lingering over certain entries before she snapped it shut.

“Learn anything from your prying?” Horatio queried lightly.

“Her stepfather in there beat on her and her mum,” Ridley replied coldly, “he is a violent alcoholic. It’s how she became involved with Mr King, whose girlfriend was head cheerleader Chrissy apparently. Mr King noticed some of Miss Greene’s bruises, started asking questions, became the sympathetic shoulder for her to lean on and one thing lead to another, they were seeing each other in secret for about four weeks now, all while he was still dating Chrissy. Her last entry was done the morning of her death; she was all excited about her and Jesse’s plans to drive up to the hill that night.” Ridley’s expression darkened at the girl’s excitement being turned to horror so easily whilst Horatio looked interested. Ridley was getting past exhaustion now and she knew her fatigue was causing her to struggle to keep back her emotions.

“So their rendezvous was not only pre-planned, presumably as early as the evening before if she was writing about it that morning, but she wrote it in there, in a diary she hid under her pillow with no other protection.”

Ridley gave a heavy nod. “I know...” She glanced down at the diary. “Maybe it’d be worth learning if someone had an opportunity to get in here that day, I didn’t see any security cameras.”

“Maybe you’re right but I don’t think Mr. Blair would be willing to let us do such a thorough search and I doubt we would get a warrant for it. This search you and I are doing now is as good as it gets.”

Ridley sighed. “They could have been here, right where we are standing, I mean even if Mr. Blair never left he might have been in enough of a stupor to never know.”

“Do you really believe this killer stalks and intrudes upon his victims on such a personal level every time with no one knowing?” Horatio demanded with a dubious glimmer in his cerulean eyes.

“I know how it sounds; I’ve been ridiculed, disciplined and threatened with suspension enough times over this asshole,” Ridley retorted frostily.

“Was anyone else ever put on the case?”

Ridley flashed him an angry look before giving a reluctant nod. “A few times, Justin and I were still left on the case, but we were the figureheads and the scapegoats for a while, the ones for the press to name, shame and blame but no one else made any better headway than we had and no one else wanted their names tarnished with such a public and bloody failure.”

“I see, well we don’t fail down here.”

“We’ll see Lieutenant Caine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this fic is currently on fanfiction.net but I thought I'd try my luck here too! Please read and review :-)


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